


Time Moves Slow

by PerhapsTheWind



Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Italian Mafia, On the Run, PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Barry, Reader-Insert, Sex, Sexual Content, Slight Canon Divergence, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Trauma, barry is a sweetie, mob, nurse reader, reader with a Past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-01-24 14:09:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21339508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerhapsTheWind/pseuds/PerhapsTheWind
Summary: “Running away is easyIt's the leaving that's hard.”Time Moves Slow by BADBADNOTGOOD—The past keeps finding Barry Berkman and you, but with each other’s help can you keep the past where it belongs?
Relationships: Barry Berkman & Reader, Barry Berkman/Original Female Character(s), Barry Berkman/Reader, Barry Berkman/You, Barry Block/Original Female Character(s), Barry Block/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 53





	1. Witness

Fuches held a sloppily put together file inside a tattered manilla folder and slid it to Barry during their quiet breakfast. 

Barry swallowed his bite and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fuches, I already told you this morning I’m done. Done. I’m starting fresh today. No more.” He was exasperated and the bags beneath his eyes proved it. 

Fuches pleaded, “I know what you said, and I hear you. I validate that.” He was picking up on some of this mindfulness in conversation that Barry had expressed to him. Barry was almost impressed. “There’s a teensy issue, though. This one is super important. She’s a loose end. You remember the Maggio’s? That crime family from like I don’t know… 5 years ago?”

Barry fully had his head in his hands at this point, and pushed his food away. “Yeah.” He answered with an acidic annoyance. 

“Well, you remember Maggio’s wife?”

Suddenly Barry raised his head. “(Y/N)?”

“Yeah, she flipped on them. Got them all indicted. Lucky she didn’t flip on us for the hits.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Anyway, they put her in witness protection. But the Maggio’s found her.”

Fuches held his index finger and slid it across his neck and chuckled. 

“Jesus, Fuches!” He roughly grabbed the folder and opened it, flipping through the pictures of you. “She was our nurse! You want me to kill a fucking nurse?” He closed it and dropped it on the table. 

“She only patched you up like twice.” Barry remembered more. 

“She served, she’s one of us!” He jabbed a finger into his chest. You were a medic in Afghanistan. You didn’t meet Berkman back then, but you both had your own set of horror stories. 

“She’s a loose end, she’ll remember you. She’s a danger.”

“You’re the fucking danger! Putting me into these situations… it isn’t good for me anymore.”

“She flipped on her husband, what makes you think that when it comes down to it, she won’t do the same to you?”

“She would have by now!” 

Fuches sighed and lowered his voice. “They are paying us big, Barry. Enough to let you retire forever.” He held up jazz hands. “You can go act, you can do whatever. One last job with some nobody mob wife.”

Barry yanked up the file and stormed into his room. He plucked up the pistol, every day it felt slightly heavier in his hand, and jammed it in his jeans waistband behind his back. 

He stormed past Fuches, who resumed his meal. Barry stopped and flung his plate off the table against the wall with a shatter and a rain of eggs and buttered toast. 

“Hey!” Fuches whined dejectedly. 

Barry slammed the hotel door behind him. 

///

Evelyn Brenner. 

Your new name. You took to it quickly, as you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. LA was not quite your scene. Expensive, bright, but it was a perfect place to get lost. 

You were a nurse, an actual one now. Not some back alley fixer-upper, but a registered nurse who worked out of a hospital. The recession hit you hard, and you did what you had to to survive. They weren’t hiring veterans back then like they do now. 

You met your inevitable downfall with your husband. You got lost in the danger of it all, fixing him up after reckless encounters. He was charming and broken like many of the men you knew. 

It all just became too much. 

You came into your modest apartment the day you were supposed to die after a particularly grueling day of gunshot wounds, overdoses, and car accidents. You kicked off your shoes with an almost pornographic moan. 

You hung up your coat, and immediately knew something was… off. Your house, which was typically not illuminated by anything but the streetlights this time of night, seemed brighter. 

There was a light on in the back bedroom. Your room. You’ve never left your lights on. 

You furrowed your brow, your cell phone keenly in your hand, finger trained on the emergency button that would dial the cops. 

“Hello?” You called out. Nothing.

You walked slower, heart racing faster. You approached the bedroom, and scooted the door open with your foot. 

A familiar figure sat on the edge of your bed.

And you knew this was the end for you. 

You blinked a few times before managing to say, “Barry Berkman.” His name spilled from your lips like pulled from a long lost tome, unfamiliar and strange. It hung in the air awkwardly. 

You could have dialed the cops, but chances are that would just lead to a quicker death. You wanted to at least somewhat confront this man you once knew, if only in passing and the stitches in his skin. 

You tossed your phone on the floor, with a thud. You would go quietly, if it came down to it. He was yet to speak, head slumped forward, hands limply holding a pistol with a silencer. 

“He found me didn’t he?”

He didn’t look at you, only offering a hint of a nod. You couldn’t help but smile a little at the stupidity of it all. The grandiose effort you and the federal government put in to help you disappear and lose yourself, but the past found you anyway. 

“What a shame. Things were starting to… look up for me, you know?” You sat on the floor and pulled your knees to your chin, feeling a keen sense of relief. No more looking over your shoulder, no more hiding. 

But death, sheesh. What a finality it has. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore, (Y/N).” His voice was small, thick with the lump in the back of his throat. 

You matched his quiet tone. “You don’t have to.” You weren’t even saying it in a way to save your skin, just offering it as another option. “There’s life after all of that. Not as exciting or interesting, but it exists.” You swallow. “Actually, it’s Evelyn now. New life, new name. You can call me Evie if you want.”

“Evie.” He tried out your name on his tongue, seeming to approve. “Why did you leave?” He looked perplexed. “How did you leave?”

“I left because I stopped feeling human.” You said flatly. “Fixing up murderers, just so they could go be murdered themselves. It was… sick. I went to the police, asked for immunity. And after the trial, they carted me out here.” There was an empty silence.

He met your eyes for the first time. There was desperation, sadness, loss. Such haunted eyes. 

Barry spoke finally. “I’m trying to leave, but something always draws me back. It never goes away. They keep telling me it’ll be the last time, but I’m not an idiot, there’s never a last time unless I’m dead.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” You sat up and stood, walking over and gently sitting on the bed next to him, not too close as to startle him or make him feel uncomfortable. “There’s always ways to change and start over.”

“Like you did?” 

“Maybe, though that clearly didn’t work out for me.” There was another empty silence, the only sound being your inhales and exhales. 

He looked down at the gun contemplatively and took a deep breath. You spoke confidently, feeling like you’ve accepted your fate. You could stop looking over your shoulder, stop fearing every unknown phone call and door to door salesman you didn’t recognize. “If you have to do this, I get it.”

He said nothing, and was still. Then, he stood up slowly turning to you, and trained his pistol on your forehead, hand shaking, the metal clanking coldly with each tremble of his hand. You looked at him, past the gun, at his clenched jaw, furrowed eyebrows, and that sad glimmer in his blue eyes. He gritted his teeth as if willing himself to just do it, just fucking do it. You took a breath and closed your eyes, heart thudding in your ears. 

The bullet didn’t come. “I can’t!” He shouted, dropping the gun from his hands. He hit himself in the head with his palms and crumpled to the floor against the wall. He sobbed, quietly, his body shaking. It reminded you of a child, almost, but not in an infantile way. He never really learned how to deal with the anger that welled in him. “I’ve killed too many innocent people.” He spoke through shaky tears. 

“Korengal?”

The word seemed to stop him cold. He nodded. His mind seemed to wander off to other times, maybe other people. 

Other killings. 

You looked at him, and his tall frame seemed so small. “I wasn’t there. But I’d heard about what happened. Those were tense days. We’re not meant to be enduring constant trauma and fear like that. It’s fucking inhumane.”

Your words didn’t seem to reach him. You went to him and sat on the floor beside him. He turned to you, his eyes bloodshot. “Why are you being nice to me?”

The question caught you off guard. “Well, you aren’t killing me, for starters.” You joked with a grin. It faltered. “Well, yet.”

“I’m not going to kill you.” 

You looked away from him. “And I know how fucking cruel this world is. Especially after being over there. People expect normalcy. Stability. When your life has been in shambles for years. People dying left and right, maimed, disfigured.” You clenched your fists remembering all the broken bodies, alive and dead, that you’d seen. You closed your eyes and huffed, and could feel his eyes assessing you. 

He very hesitantly reached over and touched your hand, a moment of solidarity and knowing that you both had. It was a quick touch, as if he wanted to hold your hand, but his better judgement told him otherwise. You looked at it, that murderous hand felt so warm and comfortable with yours. 

He stood up, gave you another shaky glance, and then left without another word.

You were alone in a daze. 

//

“Are you kidding me? She’s still alive, what the fuck?” Two informants sat outside the old house where you lived, in disbelief at how soft Barry was. “Boss won’t like that.”

If you want something done right, you better do it yourself.


	2. Survival

You saw neither hide nor hair of Barry for several days after he darkened your doorstep. Not that you were counting.

It was just so strange, having someone come to you, your life in their hands, and then just dart. It made your head spin with fear and anxiety, with the odd way your old life and your new life seemed to collide when Barry sat on your bed, pistol in his hands. 

He was the person who perhaps understood your predicament more intimately than anyone else. He threatened your life, then vanished. 

It was  rude , you decided. But life carried on. 

—

Barry avoided Fuches, seeking out a different hotel aside of him. He found him eventually, outside acting class. “Barry, why didn’t you come home?” 

Barry pulled him aside, doing double takes to make sure no one else saw Fuches. He spoke in a sharp, yet hushed tone. “Because you didn’t listen to me. I told you I wouldn’t do it, and I didn’t.”

Fuches allowed a long pause. “Oh.” He smirked. “You lost your edge.”

He responded with incredulity. “My  edge?  What, because I won’t kill an innocent woman? That makes me  lacking in edge?” He put air quotes around the last words. 

“You come across some pretty little piece and you can’t ace her? You can’t take her out? What because you have some sort of  kinship?  Some sort of  connection?  What about me, Barry? What about  me? ” 

“I’m not doing it Fuches.”

“Well then, they’ll come for her, you know. They’ll find someone else. And they’ll get the cash for it. Double fucking loss. Hope you can live with that.” 

“They aren’t going to get her.”

“What makes you think that?”

He froze for a moment, before he said. “Because I won’t let them.”

He let out a harsh and sarcastic laugh. “Sure, pal. Sure.” He patted Barry on the back, and left in his car. 

—

He appeared in your sights with a nervous look on his face, furrowed brows, frequent sighs, the works. You sipped a glass of wine as he walked up your relatively small driveway late on a Saturday evening. You didn’t feel fear when he approached you, because you could see the shame marking his forehead in worry lines. And he wouldn’t be so bold as to take you out on your front porch, surrounded by neighbors. You continued to sip. 

You let him speak first, concern laced in his voice. “Hey Evie.”

It was odd, hearing him say your name. You nodded a hello at him. Sip. “What brings you back?”

He hesitated. “Can we go inside?”

You shrugged and turned to let both of you into your modest house. 

“Sit anywhere.” You invited, gesturing to the room. 

“I’ll just stand.” He assessed your living room, as if at any moment danger would erupt from the very floorboards you stood on. It made you feel safe somehow, as twisted as it was. He did nearly kill you when you were together last. 

“Suit yourself.” You sat, your wine glass now empty. 

“I don’t think you’re safe.” He blurted. He realized how silly that was to say, shaking his head and clarifying, “I think they’ll kill you, since… I didn’t.”

You exhaled loudly, a sinking feeling in your stomach newly forming. “I thought as much.” You didn’t want to face it but it made sense. You can’t avoid your past forever. 

“I told my guy… the one who gives me targets, that I’m done. I meant it. But I can’t just let you get killed. So, I’m going to keep you safe. For a while.” He looked nervous, as if the gesture was too abrasive or too presumptuous and added. “I mean, if you want.”

You chuckled and that seemed to ease his nervousness. “If the alternative is certain death, then yeah, I would appreciate it.”

He sat down finally, in an armchair, and you took notice of his eyes. They were blue, and you couldn’t help but think how peculiar it was that such beautiful eyes made their home on such a violent, dangerous man. 

He turned to you, rousing you from your brief contemplation. “I’d like to stay here for tonight, I think it would be safer for you.”

You nodded. “I’ll get the spare room together for you.” You stood, and walked into the modest spare room. It had a stock art of a bear on one wall, and a queen-sized bed. You pulled the sheets and blankets out of the closet, and made the bed. 

You flopped down on it, looking at the ceiling. You noticed Barry standing in the doorway out of the corner of your eye, watching you. You startled slightly. “Jesus, Barry.” 

He replied slightly bashful. “Oh, sorry. I just wanted to see the room.” 

“Well, here it is.” You gestured around you, still lying on the bed. “The government and myself made a nice little life here. Alone. But hey I’m safe right?” You shook your head and turned to him. “I lost so much of what makes life,  life.  I’ve avoided relationships, friendships, all of it, because I don’t think I could bring myself to lie to them about  who I am and  what  I come from. My family doesn’t even know where I went. Do I look like I’m from fucking Montana?” You rambled. 

“No.” Barry answered simply, probably feeling like it was the right answer. What do Montanans even look like?

“So, I go it alone. I go to work, and shove all my bullshit out of the way, and hopefully have the chance to… I don’t know, make a difference or something? But for what? To continue living this solitary fucking lifestyle? Pay my bills? And just survive? At least  hopefully  survive?” 

Barry didn’t answer, but you didn’t expect him to. 

You calm down, shaking your head and changing the subject. “Anyway.” You sit up. “Make yourself at home.”

It was silent for a moment. “I don’t mind if you want to talk to me about that stuff.” He said. 

“It’s not my place to dump on you.”

“I mean it.” He spoke up a little. “Nobody really gets this life. I have to live this lie all the time.” He sat down next to you. “It gets to the point where I don’t know where the lie ends and I begin, you know?”

You thought for a moment before replying, “The truth, the  real truth is somewhere in the middle, Barry.”

He didn’t say anything. But his demeanor seemed to shift, as if you took some tremendous weight off of his shoulders, but left him with things to consider. He spoke finally. “I was thinking you could come stay at my hotel. I think it would be safer, they have security and well, I’m there.”

You feigned shock. “Barry. You’re asking me to move in already? But it’s so sudden.”

He stammered. “Oh. Well, I just…”

You laughed and gave him a jovial slap on the back. “Relax. I’m just kidding.”

He deflated the tension out with a nervous laugh. 

A sudden thought occurred to you.

“Do you think they’re casing the house?”

The thought of any of them outside your windows sent a chill up your spine. You instinctively stood and pushed the curtains out of the way and peeked out of your window. He dashed to you and grasped you by the shoulder, pulling you back and adjusted the curtain back into place, his voice was firm. “Don’t do that.” 

“What if they’re out there?” 

“They can’t see you if you stay hidden. Just don’t look out there okay?” He was nervously agitated. 

You huffed in frustration, and turned to him. His warm hands falling off your shoulder. “Fine.” He seemed to tower over you, all six-foot-two inches of him. 

He looked pained, as if he couldn’t stop the words that we’re going to rush from his mouth. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Your eyes met each other for a long moment, and you didn’t feel like you were staring at a killer. Just another fucked up human, like you. 

How terrifying and comforting.

You felt the urge to reach out and touch him. You weren’t sure if it was the uncertainty of your life, the desperation of finally finding someone who  kind of  gets it, or simply his eyes. 

You stood on your tippy toes and impulsively kissed his cheek. His face was a warm pink. “Goodnight, Barry.” 

“Goodnight Evie.”

***

Voicemail from Noho Hank - 12:21 AM

“Barryyy! It’s Noho Hank! Listen, I just wanted to call you because, well, I heard through grapevine that you  didn’t kill someone for Italians. I don’t know what’s going on man but they seem  pissed.  And as true Barry-best-friend I wanted to tell you that they might be trying to kill you and target because of double-cross. Anyway! I hope you’re well! We need to get lattes some time! Call meee!”


	3. Canary

_ The dirt and grime were so thick there. Dust and sand seemed to infect everything it touched.  _

_ You were a passenger through a small village near Camp Dwyer in the Helmand River Valley, Afghanistan. As a Corpsman you were their life line. It was never a question of if you would save their lives, but rather when.  _

_ The whir of the engine and the warm wind were the only sounds you heard. Or were there more? Were Williams and Gunthrie talking about your D&D session you were supposed to have that night? Was Daniels talking about his girl back home? You could scarcely remember. You couldn’t make out their faces anymore. You couldn’t remember which parts were dreams, and which parts were real.  _

_ A deafening roar of an explosion, followed by a cacophony of shattered glass and screaming metal. Sudden darkness, then light, your surroundings came into focus. You didn’t feel pain yet. _

_ Screaming. You had to go towards the screaming. You scrambled towards him, but he wasn’t all there. It wasn’t Williams like you remembered, it was Barry. He was going into shock, shaking and trembling and trying to cling to you as you were trying to stop the bleeding and radio for help. Where the fuck were his legs?  _

_ “Doc? Doc?” He kept repeating that nickname. _

_ “Doc?” _

_ “Doc?” _

_ “Doc?” _

“Evie?”

You awoke with a start, in that familiar cold sweat. 

”You okay?” He asked, stepping through the doorway. 

“Yeah.” You answered in a sleepy voice, hand going across your face to try and wipe away whatever was going on in your fucked up head. “Yeah I’m fine.”

He could see by your face that you weren’t fine, because he’d been there himself. 

“Did you want to get breakfast before we head over to the hotel? My treat.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little. “I’d like that.” You sat up and stretched. “Now shoo so I can change.” 

You got dressed, opting for a casual dress with pockets. You put on minimal makeup, and comfy shoes. You packed a bag, realizing you may not be back for a while. You walked out of your room with the bag slung over your shoulder. 

He stood up from the armchair he was lounging at and cracked a small smile. “You look nice.” 

He smiled rarely, so when you did see that grin of his, it felt contagious. “Well, it feels nice to try and look put together, considering the circumstances.” You realized that felt a little negative, and added, “Thank you, you’re sweet.” 

You grabbed your keys and stepped outside, immediately stopping in your tracks. 

On your doorstep laid a small bundle of yellow feathers with small gnats flying around it. A dead canary, it’s beady eyes still open and frozen, it’s lifeless wings splayed. 

Your mouth parted in surprise. “They do love their fucking symbolism.” You tried to pretend you weren’t panicking by springing into action. You grabbed gloves from under your sink. 

Barry tensed with anger staring at the bird as you picked it up, his jaw set and his brows furrowed. His voice was venomous with quiet fury. “They’re dead.” 

You trembled as you tossed the bird’s body in the dumpster. “Evie, listen, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” 

You felt a roiling anger build in your stomach. You were sick of acting like this life is normal and okay, and being told that  _ everything is fine and nothing is going to happen,  _ when it most certainly wasn’t fine and no one,  _ no one _ , could guarantee your safety. 

Barry was unfortunate enough to get the brunt of this anger and fear. “Yeah? You’re going to take out the whole fucking Italian mob? What are you, a fucking army?” You ripped off your gloves, tossed them in the trash, and slammed the lid of your trash can down. “What’s your deal? You show up, threaten to blow my fucking brains out, and now what? You’re like my protector or something?” They call it the mouth of a sailor for a reason. 

“I—” 

“I’m sick,  _ sick _ of letting everything and everyone around me shape my life. The fucking Navy, my fucking ex-husband, the federal fucking government, and you.” You pointed a finger at him, practically snarling. “You’re letting me in on this. We’re going together, and we’re taking them out.” 

His face softened, more concerned than anything. “Evie, please, I’m not letting you do that.” 

You bristled and spoke with deadly clarity. “I wasn’t asking.” 

He realized you were a force to be reckoned with. He could see the tremble of rage on your lips, and it was not something he could contend with. He swallowed, nervous about the implications of what he was about to say. “Okay.” 

His agreement deflated some of the anger in your body. You exhaled. “Thank you.”

“I’ll retrain you. I want to do this right.” 

“Even better.” 

“I have a friend I can call, he’ll get us what we need.” 

“Good. Breakfast?” 

//

You sat down at a comfortable, yet swanky diner with Barry. You took a deep breath, but Barry cut in before you could talk. His voice was hushed and apologetic. 

“I wish that I hadn’t come that night. I shouldn’t have done any of that. I’m sorry for any pain I’ve caused you. I really just want to help now.” He reached over and touched your hand, and gave it a gentle rub. “I mean it.” 

You just watched him, the crease in his forehead, his warm, worn hands. The permanent, serious line of his lips, and that ever present darkness in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. It just all becomes too much, you know?” You said, looking down at your silverware, swiping your thumb across the cold metal. 

“You don’t have to apologize. This situation sucks and it’s dangerous, and I didn’t consider how you felt.” 

“I appreciate you acknowledging that.” 

You both ordered breakfast. You got pancakes and he ordered an omelette. 

“Do you remember when you came to see me? When I was working for them?” You couldn’t bring yourself to say your ex’s name. Not yet. 

He thought for a moment in between bites. “A few of them.” 

You put your fork down. “Do you remember when you saw me for your shoulder?” You recollected the experience that stood out.  You let your words hang for a moment, reminiscing. “Yeah. Your guy, Fuches right? Anyway, he called me in after the gunshot wound wouldn’t stop seeping and you started seeing things. It was practically  _ green. _ ” You shook your head. “Fucking asshole. Should have called me sooner. You were delirious and feverish. You asked me if I were there to take you to Hell.” You remembered that night he grabbed your hands, and they were so cold and so desperate. 

Barry scanned the air with his eyes, trying to remember. 

You tried to fill in the blanks. “I told you you’d seen enough hell for two lifetimes, and you weren’t going to die.” You knew it was true, you’d seen it yourself. It was hard to watch someone so ready to accept their fate like that, even if it was a fever dream. 

“I remember a little. I remember your hands. That sounds weird, but I remember that really clearly.” 

“My hands?” You looked down at them, and smiled. 

“You were really careful and deliberate. I remember feeling like I’d be okay.” 

He was so sincere and sweet. He said whatever came to his mind, no matter how silly or strange it might come out. 

“I’m glad you were okay.” You were glad he was alive, not only for the protection you felt around him, but his company.

“Evie,” He thought for a moment. “Do you want to come to acting class with me?” 

“Acting class?” 

“Yeah, it’s something I go to a couple times a week, and it’s really fun and I think you’d like it.” 

“You’re just full of surprises, Barry Berkman.” 

“It’s Barry  _ Block _ for the class though.” 

“Ah. Okay, Mr. Block.” You gave him a playful salute. 

“Don’t you forget it.” He grinned that rare and beautiful grin. 

//

You entered the intimate theatre with Barry by your side. You were nervous, you hadn’t been in a theatre since high school. 

A small man in his early seventies stood on the stage, speaking to the group who were intently staring at him, drinking in every word.

Barry whispered to you as you both stood at the back of the room. “That’s Mr. Cousineau, he’s an amazing teacher, you’re going to love him.” He practically glowed when he talked about him. 

“Barry, so nice of you to join us. And you brought a friend!” He came off the stage and walked over to you both. 

“Evie Brenner, nice to meet you.” You shook his hand. 

His eyes went comically wide. “Powerful handshake, my goodness.” He bowed. “Gene Cousineau, at your service. You get one free audit, and I think you’ll see why we’re the best acting class around.” He turned to his pupils. “Okay class, we’re going to act out a few classic scenes from some choice movies. Evie and Barry, you’re doing Jerry Maguire.” Mr. Cousineau pulled you off to the side, and spoke quietly. “It’s only a couple lines for you, I really want you to take the time to observe today, and I’m really trying to test Barry and see how he channels someone who’s struck by love and desperate. It’s a stretch for him.”

You looked over the script and felt overwhelmed by even just the couple lines you did have. 

Gene shooed you both onto the stage when the time came. The audience was made up of fellow students and that somehow made you more nervous. 

“Aaand action!” Gene called out.

The scene was that you were Jerry’s wife and business partner for their sports management firm, and after a messy separation, Jerry appears at a Christmas party you’re attending unexpectedly. 

Barry cleared his throat before speaking. He mimed opening a door and stepping through. It was exaggerated, but not nearly as exaggerated as some other renditions you’d seen today.

“ Hello? Hello?” Barry looked around. “I'm looking for my wife.”

You turn to face him, feigning surprise. You weren’t sure if you looked convincing or not. 

“Wait. Okay...okay...okay. If this is where it has to happen, then this is where it has to happen.” 

He walked closer to you, making serious eye contact. It felt  _ real _ . His words were a little dry but his eyes were pleading. “I'm not letting you get rid of me. How about that?” 

He paused and read his next lines, mumbling to himself. “This used to be my specialty. You know, I was good in a living room. They'd send me in there, and I'd do it alone. And now I just…” he trailed off and read the next lines. “But tonight, our little project, our company had a very big night -- a very, very big night.”

More reading, then a deep look into your eyes. “But it wasn't complete, wasn't nearly close to being in the same vicinity as complete, because I couldn't share it with you.” He looked nervous and deeply emotional. But that was the actor in him, right? “I couldn't hear your voice or laugh about it with you. I miss my -- I miss my wife.”

He swallowed and furrowed his brows in focus, looking at the script. “We live in a cynical world, a cynical world, and we work in a business of tough competitors.”

He paused. You could tell he just became nervous, the slight widening of his eyes, the small gape of his lips. “I love you. You complete me. And I just had --“

Now it was your turn. You spoke clearly and with confidence, with a little bit of feigned emotion, imagining how you would feel if someone unexpectedly appeared like Jerry did, and confessed their love like that. How sweet. “Shut up.” Brief pause, Barry actually looked a little shocked. “ Just shut up. You had me at hello.”

“You had me at hello.” You said again, with more sweetness. You embraced, and it was the first time you’d done so. His frame practically swallowed yours with his sheer height. He smelled clean and felt so warm, not only in temperature but demeanor too. 

_ He kills people.  _

The audience clapped, and you pulled away from Barry, he gave your hand a small squeeze before letting go. Gene looked pleased. “Well done. I’d like to see you again Evie. A longer scene for you next time, to really test you. And Barry! Wow. I’d love to see that side of you more often. Bravo!” 

You saw the shine in Barry’s eyes, and you could tell he felt like he was on top of the world. He beamed and looked down at you. 

You felt like you were on top of the world too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, the next chapter will contain some relatively explicit smut. ;)
> 
> Let me know what you think! :D


	4. Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heavy smut, angst, and fluff ahead. ❤️

That night, you ended up back at Barry’s hotel, your new home for the time being. It was smartly decorated and more like an apartment than a hotel room, with a bedroom separate of the living room, and a mini kitchen. 

You flopped onto his couch, and it felt so natural that you’d almost forgotten about today's events. Today’s  _ threats.  _

Almost. 

“That was really fun!” You exclaimed, as Barry sat down next to you. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He thought for a beat. “I don’t know, I guess there’s something about pretending to be someone completely separate of my life that’s nice, you know?”

“It makes sense. When your life is so unsure and chaotic, it’s wonderful escapism. Not to mention the fact that you can recreate yourself in this town, especially if you didn’t like who you were before. Acting is just another layer on top of that.”

“What’s your story? I don’t know much about you.”

You chuckled. “God, where do I even begin?” The beginning, you supposed. “One tour in Afghanistan. I was a corpsman in the Navy assigned to some Marines at Camp Dwyer.” You paused, thinking about your team, the explosion, the screaming. You winced slightly. “I was discharged after an IUD went off under our caravan.”

“Were you hurt?”

“Not as bad as the rest of them. I lost one brother that day. Two were disabled. I got lucky, a concussion, some shrapnel damage, and some recurring nightmares. It was the loss and the grief that got me discharged. Thankfully, it was an honorable discharge.” 

“I know what that’s like. To lose someone.” He looked away, into another time, perhaps.

“A lot of us do.” You struggled to tell the truth, never truly recounting it out loud until now. But you did, Barry seemed to draw that out of you.“I came back. I was severely depressed. The recession made it hard to find work. I cut out a lot of family unintentionally. I took to drinking and some drugs.” You looked down, ashamed. “I managed to get invites to some pretty swanky parties. That was the beginning of the end for me. I met my ex-husband.” You took a deep breath. “His name was Sal.” His name tasted sour on your tongue. “He was charming,  _ dangerously _ charming. Much older than me, too. He rented me out as a nurse for unsavory types.” You paused. “Not that you’re unsavory, but you know.”

“Right.”

“He was a fucked up guy. He knew I was an addict at the time, and he took advantage. Of course at first everything is magical. Until you have an opinion, or you try to challenge him, or anything that shows you’re not some subservient Stepford Wife. Then you get hit, and what are you supposed to do? Go to the police for your abusive mob boss husband? Where do you go after that? Who believes the addict anyway? It took me a while, but I got clean. I turned on my husband for immunity and witness protection. I’d seen plenty to get him convicted, even if I wasn’t explicitly involved in what he did.”

You ran your fingers through your hair. “The rest is history. Now I’m right back where I started, essentially.”

“You’re not.” Barry said, his voice was gentle. “You’re fighting back. We’ll take them out, together. You’re not that person anymore.”

“I’ll always be that person, Barry. That’s where I came from.” You started feeling a deep well of despair in your gut. 

“You’re not. Just because you came from something, doesn’t mean you’re that forever. Like, look at phoenixes. They’re cool birds who disintegrate into ashes when their life is over, then they rise from the flames brand new. You’ve come from the ashes of that life and you’re new. You’re a different… bird now.”

In the midst of his words your eyes welled up with tears, and you let out a small laugh at his comparison between you and the mythical bird. Someone believing that you can be who want to be despite your past was overwhelming to you. And despite how silly his metaphor was, it felt genuine. 

He took your face in his hands, they were warm, and his thumbs wiped away your tears deliberately, carefully. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.” And despite your outburst earlier, when you felt like nothing could ever be  _ okay _ , this time you believed him. 

You nodded, unable to speak through the tears. You rested your cheek against his chest, and he seemed surprised at first, and not used to this closeness. He was tense, but then he relaxed. He played with your hair while the tears began to subside. He smelled like a hint of woody cologne and fresh laundry. Everything about him screamed comfort, and it felt like… home. 

_ This is what normal could feel like.  _

_ He kills people.  _

_ He almost killed you.  _

You pushed those thoughts aside. If he could believe that you’re a different person now, then you could believe that he’s different too, right? “Do you really think people can change?”

He sighed. “I hope so.”

“Then you’re a good person. You’re trying to change, right? If you believe that I can be someone new, than you can be too.”

He stopped stroking your hair for a beat. Then resumed. “It’s harder for me to see that for myself. Maybe that makes me a hypocrite. But I don’t know if I can be different like you.”

You looked at him, and you saw darkness staring back, but it didn’t scare you. It fascinated you. Your hand went to his cheek, feeling the stubble. You decided in that moment that maybe you both could be different, maybe even different together. “ _ I _ believe you can change, Barry.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, and it was soft and longing, as if this alone could save you both from the horrors you came from. Your hands went into his hair, and he pulled away for just a moment. His voice was low. “I want you.” He brushed the hair away from your face, wanting to look at you more clearly. The way his pupils dilated made him look even more dark, and it stirred something deep within you. 

“I want you too.” You responded, and went in for another kiss and it felt like you were melting together with need, and you could feel a warmth deep in your core. He disconnected again.

“Come with me.” He whispered, pulling you to your feet. 

You kissed all the way to the bedroom, making stops at the walls, as he would kiss you and press you against them. He stopped just before the bedroom, your lips colliding again with need, tilting your head up, and you gave his lip a playful nibble. He liked that, gruffly sighing, as he pressed you against the wall again, trapping you, and you could feel that pants were fitting more tightly now. He buried his face in your neck, his breath making you shiver. He lined kisses up and down your neck, punctuated with tiny bites, that made you lightly gasp. You clung to him, your hands wandering through his hair and down his back. 

He directed you to the bedroom, dimly lit by a desk lamp, and you fell onto his bed. He climbed into bed with you, and you resumed kissing, coaxing his shirt off which he struggled with briefly, as he rushed to remove it. You giggled, helping him out of it. Once it was removed, you saw that grin of his. 

“What’s so funny?” He asked playfully, kissing you again. 

“Oh nothing.” You stifled another giggle. 

“Oh nothing?” He nuzzled your neck, the stubble sending goosebumps down your back. 

He laid next to you, propping himself up with his elbow, and traced his other hand down from your cheeks, down your neck, across your collarbone first. You trembled lightly. He traced a finger between your breasts, and you deeply wished he’d touch them. “Let me help you out of that dress.” He whispered. 

You sat up, and he undid the dress slowly, the sound of the zipper punctuated the silence. You pulled your arms out and shuffled it off your waist now only in your underwear, no bra. The crispness of the air made your nipples taut. He seemed at a loss for words. “Wow.”

“What?” You were a little nervous by his reaction. You had scars, everyone does. You perhaps had more than others, all things considered. You were a little self-conscious by them. You reflexively went to cover yourself and he stopped you with a gentle hand. 

“No, no, sorry.” He swallowed. “You look amazing. Really, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Lay back down.” 

“Really?”

He nodded. 

You sighed with relief, and did as he asked. He finished trailing your body with his hand. He traced fingers across your breasts, circling your nipples, making you shiver. He traced lines with his fingers along your scars, admiring them. You watched him, a small smile pulling at his lips. “They’re beautiful.”

“They’re terrible. But it’s a part of me now.”

“It’s like… a reminder of what you’ve survived. You’re a survivor, Evie.”

You considered, as he trailed further down your torso, to your waist. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to be nervous around me. That’s weird to say, but I’m not judging you. It’s okay.”

You responded with a smile and you did feel yourself relax. 

He grazed over your mound through your underwear with his hand, and your breath caught. “Do you like that?” He asked with a bit of a smirk. He rubbed lightly, and the warmth in your core intensified.

“Mhm.” You practically whined. 

“I’m taking my time.” 

“I noticed.” You said breathily. 

He paused, pulling his hand away much to your frustration. “I… really like you, Evie.”

You smiled brightly and sat up on your knees and he perked up too. You took his face in your hands this time. “I really like you too.” You ran a hand down his chest. 

You kissed again, and you reached down and undid his jeans, feeling the release of tension from his crotch. You helped him out of his jeans, as he was fumbling with them, just like his shirt. His underwear came off with ease, and his want was apparent. 

You bit your lip. 

He looked nervous. “Is this okay?”

You eyed him up and down, admiring his lean, yet strong build. “More than okay. May I?” You asked, tracing your own fingers around his pelvis, and giving him a slight push onto his back. 

“Fuck yes, please.” You kissed his chest, hovering over him, his cock between your breasts. He eagerly breathed, stealing glances at you as you worked your way down, wetting your lips. You wrapped your hands around it, gently stroking. He became even harder to your touch. He was starting to relax and his head dipped back.

You rewarded him with your tongue, running it up from shaft to tip. He groaned, his hand in your hair, wanting to touch you, even if just for a moment. You wrapped your mouth around the head, starting slow, licking it, sucking it. Teasing him. 

When you felt like he’d had enough of that, you took all of his cock into your mouth, and bobbed your head up and down, slowly and deliberately. You’d stop sucking only to lick him more, then resume sucking, all the way down to the hilt. “Okay, okay, hold on. Fuck.” He exclaimed, panting. “As good as that was, holy fuck, let me take care of you too. Lay down.” 

You did as you were told. “I kind of like this demanding side of you, Barry.” You teased. 

“Oh yeah?” He grinned. “Take that off.” He motioned to your underwear. 

You smirked, sliding out of them. You were already wet. 

He reached between your legs, touching your thighs, and  _ just  _ around your clit. He continued this, teasing you, making you need it until you trembled from his touch. You looked up at him, whimpering “Please.”

He obliged, rubbing your clit in gentle circles, “How’s that?” 

You gasped, your trembling turning into writhing. He held you as your core felt absolutely volcanic. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Does that feel good?”

“Uh-huh.” It came out as a moan.

“You sound amazing, Evie,” he growled in your ear. “Let me taste you.” 

He was in between your legs, nipping your thighs as he continued to rub your clit with his fingers. The slight pain paired with the pure pleasure made you squirm, your sounds becoming more desperate and wild. His tongue licked your clit before gently sucking it. 

“Oh fuck, Barry!” You gripped the comforter, twisting it in your grasp. 

He moaned, the vibrations against your pussy pushing you closer to orgasm. You tried not to move, but the closer you got to orgasm, the more you were bucking. Barry wrapped his arms under your thighs, holding you still. He would let go to occasionally slide his fingers inside you, curling his fingers to touch spots rarely touched by even yourself. You clung to the sheets for dear life and cried out until you thought you might be hoarse. 

He wiped his mouth, and crawled up the bed, hovering over you, a look of keen accomplishment on his face. “You taste good too.” 

You pulled him in from the back of his neck, tasting yourself against his lips. His cock hung erect. “Please Barry, I want you.” 

“Let me know if I hurt you or anything okay?”

“Impossible.” You planted another kiss on his lips, the taste of you lingering there. 

He lined himself up with your entrance, easing himself in slowly, your pussy stretching to let him fill you. “Fuck, you feel amazing.” His face scrunched with pleasure as he began to pump in and out of you, your orgasm getting ever closer with each thrust. He leaned closer to you, holding himself up with his hands, varying his speed and depth. You clung to his back, your nails digging in slightly and you wrapped your legs around him. He seemed to like that, moaning in your ear. 

Your voice shook, “Fuck, Barry I-I’m close.” 

“I want to feel it.” His voice was low and gravelly, and he began rubbing your clit as he thrusted. “Let go for me.”

You gasped and cried out, cursing as you felt the peak of your orgasm climb, your back arching. You didn’t hold back your noises, letting yourself feel sweet release. You saw stars, splotches in your vision, and began to feel lightheaded. Your pussy became tighter as you came around his cock and he moaned deeply throwing his head back. 

“God, you look beautiful like this.” He remarked breathily.

You felt him get thicker, and begin to rut faster. He resumed playing with your clit, enjoying the cries of pleasure that you made. 

“Oh, fuck, Evie.” His groans became strained. He switched to slow, deep pumps into your pussy as he came, shaking with the force of his own orgasm. 

He was catching his breath, beads of sweat on his brow as he slowed to a stop. He planted a kiss on your lips, pulled out, and flopped onto the bed. 

“Oh my god.” You sighed, feeling the afterglow. 

“Yeah.” He panted. “That was… wow.” He pulled you close, noticing you were still trembling. 

You exhaled blissfully. “It’s been a while for me, but I don’t think I’ve ever orgasmed that intensely in my life.”

He beamed at the compliment. “I’m glad I could give that to you. You’re  _ really good _ at head. I had to stop you because, well…”

“I figured.” You winked. 

“Evie… stay in here with me tonight.” Barry asked. 

You laid your head on his chest, listening to his still accelerated heartbeat, and the rise and fall of his breathing. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

You fell asleep in his arms wondering if Barry could be part of your path to peace. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please do me a solid and leave a comment if you enjoyed! It’s nice motivation to keep this going. ❤️


End file.
